Rewind And Erase
by The-Derranged-Duo
Summary: Huge spoilers for 2x13. After the events in Exit Wounds, Jack takes it upon himself to use his experiences from the Year That Never Happened to bring his friends back to life. Contains some mild slashy stuff.


bWarning: Spoilers for Torchwood Series 2, Exit Wounds

bWarning: Spoilers for Torchwood Series 2, Exit Wounds. If you don't want to know the Big Finale, don't read this 'til you've seen it/b

Rewind And Erase.

Jack had watched over the two drawers in the morgue, side by side, for four hours now. He felt sick. Over a hundred years without illness and he felt sick. This was his fault. Toshiko and Owen were dead because of what he had done so many years in the past… or was that future? There was no coming back this time. No Risen Mitten to bring them back to life. Owen would have probably kicked his ass if he tried that again.

It was so unfair! They were so young, so brilliant! They had their entire lives ahead of them. Well, un-life, in Owen's case. Hell, Owen had even agreed to go on a date with Tosh. Maybe it was fitting they died together.

Jack felt warm arms slip round his waist, drawing him out of all this death. He leant back into the comfort of Ianto's body, feeling the young man's lips against his face.

"I'm sorry, Jack, I'm so sorry," Ianto whispered.

"They were my responsibility, my team, and I let them down. They were our friends," Jack replied.

The startlingly cold wetness of his tears began to roll down his cheeks, letting him know that he was crying. How could he have done that to them? How could he have screwed up so badly? One mistake as a child, and he was paying for it now.

"Martha's on her way," Ianto told him.

"Okay," was all Jack could say in reply.

Grey. He had failed Grey so badly. His own flesh and blood. His little brother. He couldn't even begin to imagine what those creatures had done to Grey to make him the way he was. The depth of hatred Jack had seen in Grey's eyes, it sent a cold chill through his spine. The madness.

"Rhys is here. And there's a P.C. Andy Davidson waiting in the Tourist Office. Gwen's dealing with them both… well, Rhys is dealing with Gwen," Ianto informed him.

"Good. I don't want her to be alone right now. Maybe you should go check on her, see how they're getting on," Jack suggested, so quietly.

"I don't want you to be alone right now," Ianto replied, kissing his cheek again.

It felt good, having the young man here. But Jack wasn't overly sure he deserved it. He might as well have signed Tosh and Owen's death warrants himself. Maybe he did, in some cosmic metaphor. The minute he let go of his brother's hand.

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Martha crouched down beside him. Laying one of her warm hands on his forearm. There were tears in her eyes when she spoke.

"Jack, I'm so sorry. I can't believe they're gone."

"Neither can I," Jack replied.

His ravaged mind took her words, and began dissecting them. Can't believe it. Literally can't. Refuse to believe.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked, concern evident in her features.

If it can't be believed, then why believe it? Anger flashed through him. It wouldn't be the first time they'd changed history. Why shouldn't he do it for Toshiko Sato and Owen Harper? Weren't they important? A technological genius with a kind and caring soul. An undead doctor with one of the most precise senses of right and wrong he had ever encountered. Weren't they special?

"Yeah," Jack said, his harsh tone shocking Martha.

"What, Jack? What can I do for you?" she asked.

"The Doctor… the Year That Never Happened? How did we do it? What could possibly have reversed a year?" Jack demanded.

"The TARDIS. She did it, it wasn't the Doctor, or you, or me. It was when the paradox machine was destroyed, the TARDIS automatically reversed what had happened," Martha frowned in confusion.

Jack looked desperate. There was something in his steel-blue eyes, a note of panic, near insanity. It suddenly began to dawn on Martha what Jack was really asking her.

"Jack I don't think we can. We don't have the TARDIS, or the Doctor. We can't reverse it," she told him, gently.

Anger flashed in the captain's eyes, disbelief. But underneath it, clearly displayed across his face, was the most heart-breaking emotion of all. Hope.

"We don't need them. This is Torchwood! We've got all kinds of alien technology in our hands, there must be something that can bring them back. There has to be. I can't lose them, Martha, I can't!"

Martha watched as Jack turned on his heel and fled, heading towards the main Hub.

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"Ianto, I need a list of everything in the Archives, now!" Jack barked.

Seeing the hurt look flash across the young Welshman's features, as he flinched and got to his feet, Jack moved forward, gently wrapping an arm 'round Ianto's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. Can I have that list, please?" Jack tried again.

Ianto smiled and nodded, placing a discreet kiss on Jack's cheek before sitting down at his computer station and clicking a few keys.

"Gwen, I need you to compile a profile on the following people, Laetitia Jones, Francine Jones, Clive Jones, Leo Jones, Lucy Saxon…" Jack drummed off a list, not paying attention to the shocked expressions of both Gwen and Martha.

"Jack those were the people on… the people who… End Of The World, Survivor's Club?" Martha told him.

"Yep," the captain replied.

Truth be told, he wasn't going to do this without knowing how it had effected the people involved. Martha's family, Harold Saxon's wife, these were the people who had been on board the Valiant for that terrible year. If reversing that year had harmed them in any way, Jack wouldn't do what he was planning on doing.

"Why do you need to know?" the young doctor asked him,

"Martha! How have your family been? Everything okay?" Jack asked, his face suddenly brightening.

"Mum and Dad got back together. They don't know why, all they know is they woke up one morning and felt love for each other. Aside from that, they're fine. No memories of… ihim/i," Martha replied.

Her eyebrows furrowed. Jack was being weird. She understood his mind was still following the track of the year they reversed. She just couldn't work out why the survivors were so important to him. Or why he needed the profiles.

"Okay. Good to know. So in your professional opinion…" Jack started to say.

"They're completely healthy. Both mentally and physically," Martha replied.

Jack pondered this for a moment. He wanted to read Gwen's report first, but he had an inkling that everything would be fine. Everything would be fine, just as long as he was the only one who knew what had happened to them. That thought tugged wickedly at his heart. He'd know. He'd know what happened to them, every time he looked at them. Even if they didn't.

"Jack? The Archives List," Ianto handed him a thick sheaf of paper.

"Thanks, Ianto," Jack replied, looking at the wad of documents.

He began leafing through them, quickly studying the descriptions of each alien object they possessed. In his mind, a plan began to form. The Master had used the TARDIS to create his Paradox Machine. If Jack could get his hands on some working time-travelling technology, he could find a way to make his very own paradox.

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He worked for hours, never stopping, never looking away from the sheets of paper on his desk. Ianto brought him countless cups of refreshed coffee, which he never drank. Each went cold, then the young man exchanged it for a new one. He didn't stop when Rhys took Gwen home, didn't look up from his desk when she came in to say goodnight. When Martha went down to his sleeping quarter to nick an extra blanket, he didn't even move. He just kept reading, kept searching. Some things looked hopeful, Quantum Distorters, Temporal Capacitors, Dimension Resonators, but nothing he could connect together to make a paradox.

"Jack, you need to rest, please?" Ianto implored him.

"Can't. I will later, not now," Jack grunted.

He continued his exploration of the Archives list. He wouldn't stop, not until he'd found his answer. Or until time and agony forced him to admit defeat. But that couldn't happen. No, he'd started this now, he was going to finish it, regardless of what happened. Even if he died, countless times, he was still going to save them. He'd go back, stop John from blowing up the city, then the nuclear meltdown would never happen. He'd stop Grey from shooting Tosh. Then they'd both be alive. Alive and safe, and he would never let anything bad happen to them ever again. He had no idea what he would do then. Probably the same thing. Chlorophorm on a cloth, knock his brother unconscious. Freeze him. It wasn't ideal, but it was his penance.

Idly, he drew a parallel between this and what happened on the Valiant. The Doctor had been so desperate for The Master to survive. He planned to keep him in the TARDIS, locked away from the rest of the world. Both to keep him alive, and as his own punishment for letting any of it happen. The Master was the only other living Time Lord. And The Doctor needed him. Just like Jack needed Grey. Grey was the only family Jack had left. The only one still alive. And Jack just couldn't lose him. He would keep him frozen, just like they'd kept Tommy before him. Just like he'd been kept, himself, when Grey buried him alive. It would be his punishment, he let go of Grey's hand, and now he would be forced to take care of his brother forever.

"At least eat something. There's some pizza upstairs with your name on it," Ianto prodded, gently.

"I don't have the time," Jack replied.

Ianto thought it was eerie, the way Jack's voice sounded so hollow, so empty, the way his eyes flicked back and forth as he read each and every word. He used to wonder how lack of sleep could effect an immortal, like Jack. He could see it now, the purplish-grey circles under Jack's eyes, and the almost anaemic pallor of his skin. The captain shivered slightly, goosebumps rising over the bare flesh of his arms and neck. Ianto walked forward, draping himself over the older man's back, seeking to warm him. He marvelled at how Jack's broad frame could appear so frail.

"You're freezing," Ianto told him.

"Am I?" Jack said, distractedly.

"Yes," the young man rubbed his hands up and down Jack's arms, seeking to warm him.

He drew back, just for a second. Long enough to remove his suit jacket and drape it ceremoniously over Jack's shoulders. Then he covered the jacket with his body, wrapping his arms tightly 'round Jack's chest. He breathed warm air against the captain's neck.

"Please, Jack, slow down," Ianto pressed a small kiss to Jack's jaw.

"Can't," Jack said again.

"Yes, you can. Whatever you're trying to do… I don't think time is a factor. You can take a break," Ianto told him.

Jack almost laughed, the young Welshman had no idea. Time was ithe/i factor. He needed to find time, time travelling technology. Desperately.

"I need to…" Jack trailed off, never looking up from the paper.

"You don't," Ianto finished.

Boldly, the young man reached over, cupping Jack's right cheek with his left hand. He tilted the captain's face towards his. Searching, deep within the older man's eyes for a glimpse of the man he knew and loved, Ianto brought his lips to Jack's, drawing him into a long, delicate kiss.

Something within Jack broke, some deep desire to be held, and comforted. Something he would never have allowed himself to feel, had this man, kissing him, been anyone other than Ianto. He ran his fingers through the young Welshman's hair, sucking lightly on his bottom lip, before tracing his top lip with his tongue. Ianto allowed Jack entry to ravish the depths of his mouth, tenderly exploring the familiar taste.

Jack slid his hands down the back of Ianto's neck, running them down his spine and all over his body. Needing the younger man's warmth, his intense, radiating love. Suddenly, Ianto gasped, just a little, and pulled back.

"What is it?" Jack asked, terrified he'd hurt yet another of his friends.

"Your wrist-strap… It, well, the buckle is quite sharp. It caught my arm," Ianto showed Jack the little red scratch.

But the captain was too busy studying his own wrist, a look of realisation slowly dawning upon his features. How could he have missed it? It was there, staring him in the face the whole time. His key to the city was a key to bringing them back. It was so simple, yet so brilliant.

"Ianto, you're a genius!" Jack exclaimed, taking hold of the young man's injured arm and kissing it.

"I am?" Ianto asked, "Not that I'm denying it, but in which particular way am I a genius?"

Jack hastily unbuckled his Vortex Manipulator, and laid it out, flat on the table.

"My wrist-strap! It's a time travelling device! Just hasn't worked properly in a while is all. Not since I came back, anyway. But it does have the potential to travel in time, therefore, if I can reconfigure its settings, I can build a miniature Paradox Machine around it!" Jack told him, the excitement in his voice causing Ianto's heart to beat a little faster.

"Which means?" Ianto asked.

"I'm bringing Toshiko and Owen back!" Jack grinned.

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Somehow, following only the images in his mind, Jack managed to piece together a Paradox Machine. It wasn't powerful, by no means. It would only work once, and even then, he had to watch what he was doing. If he killed his past self, it would probably bring Reapers, also, he couldn't meet any of the team, couldn't risk passing on any information that would change the future. All he could do, was this one thing. Bring Tosh and Owen back, change what Grey did. It was only strong enough for one return trip. Back to the day before they were killed. It would take him, automatically to where Grey and John were, then he could stop them.

He had gathered them around the conference table. It was a terrible sight, all of them exhausted and grief stricken. Gwen's eyes were red and puffy, as though she'd been crying for days. She sat curled up in a tiny ball in her chair, the comforting arm of Rhys, wrapped tightly 'round her small shoulders. Rhys, too, looked upset. Although it wasn't as pronounced as everyone else. The main look on his face was concern, for Gwen, for all of them really, since the man had become an unofficial member of the team. Next to him was Martha, her bottom lip trembled as she looked at him, fingers toying with a biro. Her hair had come loose of it's ponytail, and now hung in dishevelled locks over her face, as though she'd been running her hands through it. Jack wondered if she'd picked that up from The Doctor. He always did that when upset or stressed. Beside Martha, two chairs away from Jack, sat Ianto. The captain smiled when he saw the young man. He had such a look of hope and belief in his eyes that Jack felt his heart swell. Ianto believed in him, Ianto truly believed this would work.

"Right, I just want to let you know, before I do this, that I've found a way to bring them back," Jack told them.

"What? You can resurrect the dead now, can you?" Rhys asked, incredulously.

"Hush now, that's the least of what he can do," Gwen told her husband, before turning to Jack and saying, "But we can't. The Glove was destroyed, both Gloves were destroyed."

"It doesn't matter. I've found another way," Jack told her.

He set his Vortex Manipulator down on the table, glancing at them all to gauge their reactions. Only Ianto seemed to know exactly what he was looking at.

"It's a Paradox Machine. It'll allow me to go back in time, cross my own personal timeline, and change something in my past. Just one trip though, then this thing will burn out. As soon as I've done what I'm going to do, I'm going to break the paradox. You'll all forget any of this ever happened," Jack told them.

"You actually made one?" Martha asked, "Even after what happened the last time?"

"I am not going to use it to make the human race kill their ancestors!" Jack snapped.

"I know, but what happens if you make a mistake? You said yourself it's only good for one trip…" Martha started.

"I won't," Jack replied.

His mind was made up. He was doing this, no matter how much danger he may be putting himself in. Right now, his safety didn't matter, it was only Toshiko and Owen that mattered.

"Anyone else got anything to add?" Jack asked, almost daring them to speak up.

"Yeah. Jack, I think you should look at this before you do anything. It's the profile on all the people you mentioned. Everyone from the Jones family is fine. But the woman you mentioned, Lucy Saxon… the ex prime minister's wife. She's in a psychiatric institution," Gwen slid the folder across the table to Jack.

He flicked through it quickly. Lucy Saxon was displaying signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, although they could find no cause for it. Torchwood had done a pretty good job of covering up The Master's death, and consequently, Harold Saxon's disappearance. So there was nothing to suggest that Lucy would have suffered any recent trauma. It worried him. There was no way she could have remembered what happened, was there?

"Martha, can Shell Shock be treated?" Jack asked, suddenly extremely serious.

"Yeah, under the proper circumstances, with qualified help, yeah, it can," Martha cocked her head.

"Then I'm still doing this. I have no choice," Jack replied, "Any objections. Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

No one said a word. They all looked too lost in their own thoughts. Jack turned his intense glare to each one of them, Martha, Rhys, Gwen.

"Nothing? I thought you would have spoken against me, Gwen, told me it was inhuman," Jack said, not questioning, just stating.

"No. I love them, Jack, I don't care if you have to tear the city apart doing it, just get them back," Gwen replied.

The tears in her eyes made her look all the more determined. There was a cold plea in her words, she meant what she said. If Jack didn't do this, he was certain Gwen would.

"And you, Ianto, nothing about how much danger I'm putting myself in? Not even trying to stop me, are you?" the older man raised an eyebrow.

"I know you, Jack, you'll be safe. You can't die, remember? I'm not going to lose you," it was said like a prayer.

"Martha?" Jack looked at her.

If anyone had cause for objection, it was the young woman who had saved them all. She knew where this would lead, knew all the implications and risks.

"No," her voice was gravelly, broken.

"Then goodbye. You won't remember this moment, any of you, at least, I certainly hope not," and with that, he buckled the wrist-strap and was gone.

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It surprised him that he ended up in the hotel room he and John had often shared in the days before he'd met The Doctor. Although, he thought, it probably shouldn't. John Hart always had liked that room. Just that particular room. Not even the hotel itself, just the room. In a way, he was glad for that. It meant he knew every hiding place, every nook and cranny of the over-stuffed suite. He ducked into an alcove, behind a bookshelf, and waited.

It wasn't long before he heard their voices, the familiar, cocky drawl that preceded John's entrance. The almost heart-breaking cadence of his little brother, as he followed Jack's former lover.

"You're gonna blow up Jack's city tomorrow," Grey commanded.

"What if I say no?" John replied, Jack could imagine the sneer on his face.

"Then I blow up… uh, you," his brother said.

Jack had no idea how the boy could talk like that, with so much hatred and detachment. Their parents did everything they could to ensure their boys didn't turn out like that. It hurt him that Grey had.

"Why are you doing this? Sure he can be full of himself, a complete arse at times, but why do you want to hurt him this badly?" John asked.

"He let go of me. He let me be taken by those creatures. I want him to suffer the way I suffered," he heard Grey reply.

"So you are a complete maniac then, good, I was just checking," the Time Agent said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jack heard the sound of a fist connecting with flesh and bone, John's pained grunt as Grey punched him.

"Next time you decide to be funny, think about the device on your wrist that gives me complete control over you. Then we'll see who's laughing." Jack's little brother hit John again. Jack heard the distinct sound of a vase smashing as the Time Agent was knocked backwards into a table. The wood splintered beneath his weight.

"I'm going to destroy him, John. I'm going to take everything he cares about away from him. I want to hear him beg for death, cry and plead and scream. His friends, his lovers, everyone that matters to him, they'll all die, right before his very eyes. I'll destroy his home, his work. He'll have nothing. All he'll have is me, and the vain hope that someday, I'll kill him. But, of course, it would never last. He'd keep coming back. But that would be when I'd do it."

"Do what?" John asked.

"Bury him. Bury him alive, right beneath the city he loves so much. He might not be able to die, but he can certainly rot in his grave," Grey replied, his voice was so cold, it cut right through Jack's heart.

Jack remembered the look on Grey's face as he stood over him, smirking as John covered him with the dirt. He had never felt so worthless as he had at that moment. He'd just lain there and allowed it, allowed his ex lover to bury him at his brother's request. He felt like he deserved it.

Then a fresh wave of anger rocketed through him. Sure, he may well have deserved it, but Toshiko didn't. She didn't deserve to be shot. Especially not such a cruel wound. Through the stomach. It would have hurt her so badly, he knew that from experience. Owen didn't deserve it either, killed by nuclear radiation. Watching himself slowly decompose. They did not deserve it.

He began to formulate his plan. It would take military precision. If he could get Grey, knock him unconscious and take him back to the Hub, he could freeze him. It wouldn't matter if he ran into himself, or any of the team. The paradox would take care of that. The minute he broke the paradox, hopefully, everything else would go back to normal, except Grey would be in the freezer, unable to cause any more harm to his team. The only problem would be catching him.

Jack thought about how he had managed in the first place; talking to Grey, breaking him down with gentle words. He'd forgiven his brother just before he'd drugged him. Would it work now?

He heard the door open, and then slam shut. Either Grey or John had just left, he couldn't tell which.

"Well, Jack; might as well show yourself. Think I don't know you're in here? Of course I do," John called out.

Jack hesitantly stepped out from behind the bookcase. The sight that met him was pitiful. John stood before him, blood pouring from his nose and burst lip. There was the beginnings of a bruise over his right eye. A small cut, obviously from the ring Grey wore, scarring his cheekbone. John's shirt was torn, an old wound showing through the ripped fabric. This can't have been the first time Grey had beaten him.

"Not a pretty sight, am I?" John asked.

His smirk barely concealed the true pain in his voice. He spread his arms wide, repeating the gesture he'd made the first time he and Jack had met in 21st Century Cardiff. Jack wasn't sure whether to slap him or embrace him.

"You've looked worse," Jack raised his eyebrow.

"Well, that's true," John replied, "Seem to remember an accident with a flamethrower."

Jack laughed, "Good thing the time loop reversed that. The whole 'scarred and interesting' thing didn't suit you."

"True, I happen to like my flawless features," John smiled.

Something about the tiny, pained curl of the conman's lips instantly caused Jack to feel infinite sympathy for the man.

"How long has he been doing this to you?" he whispered. It was almost as if he feared Grey would hear the answer.

"Since the day he did this…" John held out his wrist for Jack to examine.

He already knew what it was. The vortex manipulator had been fused to John's skin. A bomb had been attached to it, and Grey held the remote. If John were to do something against Grey's wishes, he could blow him up.

"Jesus. Should have known, shouldn't I? Blowing up buildings never was your style," Jack said, quietly.

"Too loud and over the top for me," John smirked, "But enough about that. You're here to stop him, aren't you?"

Jack couldn't ignore the silent plea in his ex lover's eyes.

"Yes. I know the future, John. He kills two of my team, just to hurt me. I can't let it happen."

"Who?" John asked. His mind flashed back to the day he met Jack's team. He pictured their faces, their voices. He had tried to kill them himself, but that was all part of Grey's game. It was why the young man had picked him; he had been close to Jack, he knew his patterns, his tricks… And he wasn't adverse to murder. Sure, rehab had cured him of all that, but it's amazing what a bomb glued to your skin can make you do.

"Tosh and Owen," Jack replied. His bereavement showed plainly on his face, the grimace he wore when he thought about his loss.

"What are you going to do?" the conman asked.

Jack fell silent. He went over to the bed, sat on the edge of it, thinking. Could he trust John? True, the other man had come back to help them when he could have run for his life. He had helped save them. Even as he buried Jack, he had planted that tracking device. It didn't erase what he had done, but it had redeemed him. Jack sighed.

"This is a Paradox Machine," he gestured to his wrist, "It's allowing me to cross my own timeline. The plan is to capture Grey, knock him out, and then cryogenically freeze him back at the Hub," Jack told him, "Then I break the machine. Everything should go back to normal, except Grey really will have been frozen before he can do any real damage."

John seemed to ponder this. Jack knew how hopelessly easy he had made it sound. He also knew John would understand exactly how complicated his plan was. Time and paradoxes were delicate things. There were an infinite number of possibilities, things he could change, terrible things that could happen, brilliant things that could happen. He couldn't even begin to guess how even one tiny slip up could alter the fabric of history.

"Okay. And what about me? Will this thing still be deactivated?" John asked. Jack's initial reaction was anger at the selfish question. But the more he thought about it, he realised it was just simple human fear.

"No. Grey did that after he buried me. But I promise, I'll find a way to remove it," the Captain told him honestly.

"Can't," John replied, "His own technology. He's the only one who can work it." He drew a ragged breath, searching Jack's face.

"We're Torchwood. We can find a way," Jack assured him.

"It's okay, Jack. Not saying I want to die, but if this'll help save your quaint little planet… then I guess I'm okay with you not being able to save me," John looked resigned.

This was his final act of bravery. He had decided to sacrifice himself to save Tosh and Owen. Jack almost couldn't speak. His mind was working at a mile a minute. This wasn't how it was supposed to go! Go back, stop Grey, everyone lives. That was the plan. No one was supposed to die.

"No. I have another idea!" Jack growled.

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Grey watched as John shovelled the last of the dirt on Jack's grave. He sneered down at the final resting place of his older brother. Finally, he was getting the revenge he so sorely deserved. He'd make his brother suffer the way he had suffered. Make Jack feel the pain he had felt. He'd waited so long, drifting throughout time and space, holding out for the moment he'd find his vengeance.

The expression on the former Time Agent's face was pitiful. A single tear broke loose to roll down his face; he looked so pained, so regretful. He was doing this against his will; Grey didn't have any misconceptions about that. But did the bastard really have to look quite so pathetic. His fist shot out, connecting with John's jaw.

"You're a fucking liability. You still love him don't you, you twisted fuck?" Grey hissed.

"He doesn't deserve this. Love doesn't even come into it," John replied.

He turned and spat blood onto the earth at Grey's feet. This visibly enraged the younger man. He grabbed John's throat, squeezing hard enough to cut off his air supply. He captured John's lips in a bruising, hard kiss.

"Now get out of my sight. You disgust me," he said, finally releasing the conman's throat.

Grey delighted in the choking gasps that escaped John's lips as he sucked in great gulps of air. The next moment, John vanished. Grey took a little device from his pocket, tapping in a complicated sequence of numbers and letters. There, finally he was free of the snivelling man. John's defence of his big brother sickened Grey. Jack was the reason every bad thing in Grey's life had happened. He deserved what had happened to him.

Hands snatched him from behind. Covering his mouth, snatching one of his arms and twisting it in a half-nelson behind his back. He struggled, the anger rising up like bile in his throat. He bit at the hand covering his mouth. Sheer fury engulfed him when the hand didn't move.

"I know what you're trying to do, Grey. You're not just content with burying me a hundred feet under the city. No. You have to go to my team, shoot and kill one of my friends. Because of that, the nuclear meltdown you've already set in place will kill another. You devastate my team, Grey. What's worse, you break my heart. I searched for you for years, little brother, and when I finally find you, you do this to me. And you wanna know the worst bit? The downright sad bit. I forgive you, for all of it. I forgive you."

It was Jack's voice, talking in his ear. Jack restraining him. The most powerful, burning hatred surged through him at the words 'I forgive you'. For what? He snarled something unintelligible at the man.

"Shh, Grey, I'm going to find a way to fix this," Jack said, oh so quietly, oh so patiently.

Jack removed his hand from Grey's mouth. For a moment, he let himself believe his older brother was letting him go. How stupid could Jack be? But he soon found out how wrong he was. Hypersteel cuffs surrounded his wrists, first one, and then the other as it was twisted 'round his back. Then Jack moved him, turned him so he was facing his captor.

"I'm sorry," Jack said.

Impotent, useless word, sorry. It never really means anything. Since the invent of the English language 'sorry' has been so overused that it became meaningless. He didn't know why Jack even bothered saying it to him.

"I'll never accept it," he replied.

Then everything faded to darkness as Jack covered his nose and mouth with a large, white cloth.

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Jack had already drawn his first paradox. Standing on top of his own grave, speaking to his mortician. He was well aware that he'd have to be careful now. His Paradox Machine barely had enough power to cover him as he crossed his own timeline that once. But now, he had to do it again, to get Grey into the Cryogenics Drawer.

He slung his unconscious brother over his shoulder and pressed a few buttons on his Vortex Manipulator.

They materialized in the middle of the Roald Dahl Plass. He was expecting it, but it was still so strange to see the, normally bustling, city of Cardiff so dead. No tourists milling about taking pictures, no shoppers heading off in search of a bargain, no one walking their dogs, or jogging. Just the odd Weevil milling about, formidably.

He passed, unnoticed, into the Hub, carefully avoiding Gwen, Tosh and Ianto. An intense stab of pain passed through his heart when he saw the young Japanese woman. Her face was so focussed, so vibrant, so ialive/i. It was like looking at a ghost. He desperately wanted to grab her and hug her, holding her tight and never letting anything bad happen to her. But that wasn't what he was here for.

John saw him as he was walking to the morgue. He raised an eyebrow at the unconscious Grey, as if to ask 'are you sure he's out'. Jack just nodded his head and continued to the Cryogenics Drawer. He laid his brother down, gently in one of the little cubicles, carefully arranging his limbs. The position he was in reminded Jack a little of a corpse in a coffin. He remembered how, years ago, Alex had said something oh so similar about Tommy. A living cadaver in a coffin of ice. It sent chills through his spine. He leant forwards, kissing his little brother on the forehead.

"Good night, Grey," he whispered into his brother's hair.

Then he closed the lid on the freezer, pressing a few buttons to turn the Cryogenics on. It was done, again. His brother was frozen; somewhere he couldn't hurt anyone ever again. Now he could keep Grey safe forever.

RAERAERAERAERAERAERAERAERAERAERAERAE

Jack knew that the cells would be empty for another couple of hours. It would be safe for him to go down there, use it for the privacy he needed to destroy the Paradox Machine. He'd never been so afraid. This was the moment when his entire plan would either come to fruition, or blow up in his face. Everything he just did could be completely erased.

"It'll work. It's bound to," a voice behind him said.

Jack felt a warm hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. He covered it with his own, drawing comfort from the friendly gesture.

"I hope so," he turned around and came face to face with John.

"It will. Soon as you break this thing, Tosh and Owen will be back, alive. Promise," John told him.

Jack smiled, drawing a deep breath. He felt as though he should say 'thank you' although he didn't really know what for. For the words, maybe, for believing in him. He unbuckled the Vortex Manipulator and spread it out on the floor. Slowly, almost reverently, he knelt before the device. He heard the noise of John crouching down beside him, felt the pressure of his hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you," John said, "Kinda saved my life there."

"No problem. On three?" Jack replied.

"Sure. One… Two… Three…" the conman counted.

Jack withdrew his Webley from the holster. Holding it by the barrel, he smashed the butt down on the Paradox Machine. Instantly, it shattered, leaving tiny pieces scattered all over the floor.

It started in the pit of his stomach, before moving up to his heart. A sensation like ropes tugging his every vein, pulling him, trying desperately to drag him off. Light-headed, he felt so light-headed, so dizzy. He could barely breathe. Open, he knew his eyes were open, but he was immersed in darkness. God, it was terrifying. His heart stopped, he felt it come to a shuddering halt. Too much like dying, God it was too much like dying…

Then it stopped. And when he opened his eyes he was in the Conference Room.

RAERAERAERAERAERAERAERAERAERAERAERAE

Jack's heart sank. Nothing had changed. He stood at the head of the conference table, gazing at Ianto, Gwen and Martha. Owen and Toshiko weren't there. They were gone. Dead. He would never see them again. He bowed his head, a single tear escaping his eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I guess I failed them all," he sighed.

He missed the look of sheer confusion on his team's faces. Ianto tentatively moved forward, placing both hands on Jack's shoulders.

"Failed who, Sir?" he asked quietly, not wanting to startle Jack when he was in this state.

"Tosh and Owen. God, I'm so sorry! I never meant for any of it to happen!" the Captain sobbed.

"And why, exactly, have you failed us, Jack?" said the ghost of a voice. The familiar, sarcastic abrasive tone. The cocky, cockney accent.

"We're fine, more than fine," the next ghost chipped in. Quiet, gentle, the hint of a smile in the feminine cadence.

Jack's head snapped up, taking in the sight of his fallen comrades, standing hand in hand, in front of the door. Toshiko's arm was still in its sling, but gone were the traces of her fatal wound. Owen's hand was still bandaged, still baring the mark of his own recklessness. But he was still alive, well, un-dead anyway.

It was then he knew they were phantoms. If they were really here they would never be clinging to each other so tightly. They would never stand before him with their fingers laced.

"See, Jack, they're fine. Now tell me what's up? You don't seem yourself," Gwen asked him.

Jack stared at her. Could she see them? Oh God… that must mean…

"You're really here?" he asked them.

"Yes. But seriously, Jack, for how much longer? We've got to get going, the film starts at half six," Owen replied, somewhat impatiently.

The Captain practically leapt across the table, pulling them into his arms. He held them tightly, pouring every ounce of his relief, and his sadness into the embrace. He didn't want to let go of them, not ever. Feeling them in his arms, solid and just… there, it was almost more than he could take.

"Okay, on you go. Have fun. I'll see you tomorrow," he told them.

RAERAERAERAERAERAERAERAERAERAERAERAE

That night, Ianto held him, letting him purge all the sadness and fear, weeping on his young lover's shoulder. Ianto just tightened his embrace, stroking one hand over Jack's hair. Eventually, after long, painful moments, Jack drew back, just enough to look into Ianto's eyes.

"The past couple of days… what happened?" he asked.

"You mean, after the explosion in the city?" Ianto raised an eyebrow, slightly concerned by his lover's question.

"Yeah. Pretend I've been Retconned, and remind me of everything," Jack whispered.

Pushing Jack's head slightly, so it was resting on his shoulder, Ianto began to tell his Captain everything. The explosions in the city had indeed caused chaos. The Weevils, the nuclear meltdown, everything. But, it seemed, that as Toshiko was never shot, she was able to help Owen stop the meltdown on time.

"The way they tell it, Owen had a few seconds to get out of there before it killed him… again."

The near death experience was enough to bring them closer, and, once they were reunited, Toshiko and Owen had decided to give their relationship another try. They had been inseparable ever since.

Gwen and John had found Jack in the Cryogenics Drawers; he apparently only had one more hour left to go in there. But they had revived him immediately. He had never explained to them why he had been in there. But Ianto had guessed it was something buried deep down in Jack's soul. Something none of them would ever be able to understand. When Jack had asked where Grey was, John had quite simply told him 'It's taken care of'.

They had spent the next three days rebuilding the city. Martha had joined them to help control the massive amounts of Weevil bites and other injuries. They had all been in the Conference Room that day so Jack could pat them on the back and apologise for his brother being the cause of all the trouble.

By the time the young Welshman had finished his story, Jack was shaking. It had worked, it had all worked. It had all turned out for the best. He couldn't help but bury his face in Ianto's chest and cry, tears of relief, of happiness.

"It wasn't like this before, was it?" Ianto asked him.

"What do you mean?" Jack replied.

"I'm not going to pretend I know what happened, Jack, but I know you. Your reaction to Tosh and Owen, the fact you had to ask me things about the past four days. I think you changed the past. I don't know what you did. But I think that before you did it, Tosh and Owen were dead. I think you changed it to bring them back," the young man told him.

He should have known. Ianto was always the most observant of the team. Of course he's be able to see deep into Jack's thoughts like that. He knew his mind, just as well as he knew his body and soul.

"And what do you think about that?" Jack asked, quietly, afraid the answer would be too hard for him to bear.

"I think it's the bravest thing I've ever heard," Ianto replied.

As he leant in to kiss Jack, tenderly, he brushed away the Captain's tears. Jack smiled, for the first time, something akin to hope, and life shone in the older man's eyes. It was the answer to everything.

"It'll all be okay now," Jack said, and it would be.

Fin.


End file.
